After my arrival in Seattle in the summer of 1869, I became much
interested in Seattle's local history. I had known and read of the
Indian war of 1855-6, and of the attack on the town of Seattle by the
Indians on January 16th, 1856, in which two white men were killed; but
of the details of that attack, and of the ensuing battle, I knew
nothing. I wrote to Lieutenant Phelps, who was an officer on the warship
"Decatur" at the time, and who had written and published an account of
the battle, to send me his pamphlet containing such descriptive account,
and he promptly and courteously complied with my request. In addition to
that official statement, I obtained from many of the leading residents
at the time further details, facts and information hereinafter stated.
I ought possibly to state that at the request of Hillory Butler, a dear
friend and pioneer, who was present and participated in the fight, I
wrote his biography, from which the following is taken. Further to
understand the situation, it ought to be remembered that the side-hill
fronting the bay from the east line of Second Street (now Avenue)
eastward was a dense copse of fern and brush, logs and tree tops, as
well as standing timber to the top of the ridge and beyond, affording an
excellent cover, or ambuscade for the Indians.
"In the fall of 1855 the Indian tribes east of the mountains
became hostile. A small force under Major Haller was sent into
the Yakima country to reduce the hostiles to subjection. This
force was defeated and driven back to The Dalles. This but
aggravated the discontent of the Indians and well-nigh
precipitated a general uprising. A feeling of dread and
insecurity among the settlers was everywhere present. As
precautionary measures, block-houses were built and stockades
constructed, in many cases none too soon. A block-house was
built in Seattle near where the Boyd building now stands.
Hostile emisseries were known to be at work among the Puget
Sound tribes. Some of the tribes were known to be wavering in
their allegiance to the whites and many individuals of all these
tribes had joined the ranks of the hostiles. The people of
Seattle, however, felt quite secure for the 'Decatur,' a
thirty-gun United States war-ship, under the command of Capt.
Gansworth, lay at anchor in the harbor. Her crew consisted of
150 men. There was aboard of her also a company of marines,
under the immediate command of Lieut. Morris. Notwithstanding
all this, the evidence of an impending attack, became from day
to day more convincing to those who calmly studied the
situation, and had an accurate knowledge of the Indian
character. They were, however, the few; the large majority were
unbelievers, and the block-house was tenantless. On the morning
of the 7th day of February, 1856, friendly Indians brought the
dire intelligence that the town was entirely surrounded with a
force of from five to eight hundred hostile Indians, under the
command of Leschi, and other hostile chiefs. Even then, no other
attention was paid to this startling information than the
sending word to the commander of the 'Decatur.' He, however,
immediately acted on the information and sent Lieut. Morris,
with the company of marines and one of the ship's guns, to the
shore. They landed on the point a short distance south of where
the New England Hotel now stands. It was about seven o'clock in
the morning. Not an Indian was to be seen. All work had ceased.
Silence reigned supreme. Men, women and children quietly went to
the block-house, or stood in the door-way, or beside their
cabins, watching the movement of the soldiers. Lieut. Morris
loaded his cannon with a shell and directed aim to be taken at
an abandoned cabin, situate on the point a short distance beyond
where the gas works now are. The aim was accurate. The shell
struck the cabin, exploded, and demolished it. That shot of
defiance was immediately answered by the Indians, by a volley
from, three to five hundred rifles. Then followed a general
stampede of men, women and children for the block-house or the
friendly protection of the shore bank--and had it not been for
the fact, that the rifles in the hands of the Indians had been
generally emptied by the first volley, many of the inhabitants
would have fallen on their way to the sheltering bank or
block-house. The Indians were here, and skepticism was at an
end. The smoke from the rifles indicated clearly that the front
line held by the Indians extended along where Third Street or
Avenue now is until Marion Street was past, where it curved
towards the bay. It was a complete semi-circle, and every part
of the then town was within easy rifle range, from said line.
"The 'Decatur' opened with solid shot and shells--alternating
with canister and grape. All day long the roar of the Decatur's
cannon continued. The ground beyond Third Street was torn up by
exploding shells--huge logs and trees were splintered by solid
shot--and seemingly every space covered by showers of grape and
canister, but still Leschi's warriors held their lines. They
kept up a desultory firing all day and continued the same until
about midnight, when they withdrew as noiselessly as they came.
Three whites were killed during the day--Young Holgate was
struck by a bullet between the eyes, while he was standing in
the block-house door, and was instantly killed. The others were
killed in the attempt to go, or return from their cabins. Every
house was struck by Indian bullets. Strange to say, no one was
hit by the first general volley fired by the Indians. How many
Indians, if any were killed or wounded, during the fight, has
never been known.
"When the first gun was fired Mr. Butler and his wife were just
sitting down to breakfast. They both jumped from the table and
went to the door. The bullets from the answering volley struck
all around them. Mrs. Butler hastened to the block-house and
safely reached it. Butler gathered up a few valuables and
followed in a short time. He, however, sought the friendly
protection of logs and stumps, for the Indian rifles were now
reloaded and the closeness of the whizzing bullets indicated
that the Indians were watching his stealthy flight. He returned
to his house in the same manner during the day for some portable
valuables. While there, he went up stairs, but the bullets were
rattling around in a manner a little too spiteful and plentiful,
and he did not stay long. Those of the men who had rifles, took
positions behind some protecting log or friendly stump, and
fired at the spot where the puff of a rifle indicated an Indian
warrior concealed. Whether these shots were effective or not, is
unknown--they often caused a cessation of firing from that
ambuscade. As full of terror as were the events of that February
day, the duration of its effect on the minds of the pioneer
settlers of the embryo city was but brief. It was but a
thrilling passage in the unwritten history of pioneer life.
After the roar of the Decatur's cannon and the sharp crack of
the rifle had ceased, all returned to cabins and homes, and
soundly slept and sweetly dreamed of the good time coming. Such
is pioneer life, and such the mental conditions, and characters
it begets. Still we cannot disguise the fact that had it not
been for the presence of the war-ship Decatur, with her
complement of guns and fighting men, the town would have been
plundered and burned, and its inhabitants would have perished in
a terrible massacre.
"During that fated morning Chief Seattle with many of his tribe
lay under the cover of the friendly shore-banks, silent and
stolid spectators of the raging battle. During a lull in the
firing, he, to the astonishment of all, leaped upon the bank and
with arms flying, and voice roaring defiance, commenced a
bending, bounding and contortion war-dance of the most
intensified order. The hostiles quickly got the range, but as
soon as the bullets commenced to sing around him in dangerous
proximity, Seattle's feet flashed in air as he made a headlong
plunge down the bank. Seattle's war-dance was over, and he
attempted no repetition of the performance on that gloomy day.
Many who witnessed this strange performance supposed that the
old chieftain had received a mortal shot, but he had escaped
without a scratch.
"The Indians, in giving an account afterwards, of the firing
from the ship, said that they were not afraid of the solid shot
and grape and canister, but the guns that 'poohed' (or shot)
twice were a mystery and terror to them. This was their
description of the firing and explosion of shells.
"This was in harmony with the idea of the Indians on the plains
in their first intercourse with the immigrants. The first
immigrants' trains had with them mountain howitzers mounted on
strong gun carriages. The Indians spoke of the Bostons as a
tribe of men who could shoot their wagons at them.
"A kindred idea was entertained by the Mexicans, of the
Spaniards when Cortez first invaded Mexico. The Mexican had no
written, but a pictorial language. The Spaniard on his horse was
pictured as one animal with two heads, four legs and two arms.
This was the description which the correspondents of those days
first sent to the Halls of Montezuma for the inspection of an
affrighted monarch.
"We have already stated that during the battle a large number of
shells fell upon the benches between Third Street and the bluff
beyond. Most of them exploded when they struck the ground, or a
log, or a tree. Some of them, however, did not, but buried
themselves in the earth or under the roots of huge trees,
retaining all their latent forces. It is said that our friend
Dextor Horton on one of his tours of inspection of the
improvements going on in his loved city one chilly day, passed
by the lots on which Mr. Colman's fine residence now stands.
Noticing a crater of fire burning in the center of a mammoth
cedar stump, he drew near to it to enjoy the genial heat. As is
always characteristic of man, he turned his back to the fire,
parted his coat tails, and was comfortable. As the day,
although cold, was clear and the bright waters of the Sound were
before him--the dark forests beyond and still beyond, the
Olympic Range with its ragged ridges then snow-crowned--as he
was drinking in this scene of beauty and grandeur, lo! a
terrific explosion occurred. Impelled by the impetus of the
explosion he made a quick start and very fast time, for a short
distance. Convinced, however, that the shooting was over, he
stopped and turned to see what had happened. The stump was gone,
the fire extinguished, and he left with the mournful remark,
that he had no idea the durn stump was loaded."